Finding Jake, Literally
by Walelu
Summary: "Hey? You got kidnapped at three a.m., have been missing all day, were going to be sacrificed by some crazy Native American Snake Cult, probably involving fire, and all you have to say, is hey?"
1. Catch Up!

A three-day investigation into a native American couple's murder inside their own flower shop had led up to this moment, which couldn't accurately be summed up without a bit of a run-on sentence.

Unfortunately, an arrest had been made too soon, and now it was a race against time to get a confession for the murder. The suspect, another native, apparently belonging to the same tribe, but had never enrolled himself.

And that's precisely why, upon being notified of the situation, a hyperactive thirty something year old came flying through the precinct, grabbing a packet of crackers off his desk as he went.

Two months before, the precinct had gotten a new human being who did psych evals. Jake forgot their names. Either way, he had to go see the therapist about his recent stint in prison, and she wanted to know more about him for her file. Which sounded a lot like that song about a woman named Mrs Robinson.

But then that therapist visit turned into a five-hour visit, and then another visit that took about the same amount of time, then a diagnosis of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. Type three. Long story short, Amy put off talking about going to a doctor again, for a while.

"Jake." Captain Holt's voice boomed through the precinct, stopping the younger man short, even if he did skid a little and nearly fall over his own feet, "why are you running?"

Amy looked up from her computer in interest. Jake straightened up quickly though, and grabbed onto the edge of Boyle's desk to steady himself while he blurted out a single word, "interrogation!"

"Yes, I too can shout seemingly nonsensical words." Holt looked… like an (un)amused Holt? Then for a split second his face lit up, and he shouted, "Catamaran!" before returning to his stoic position.

Terry's head bolted up from his paperwork, and Rosa stared at him, forgetting to actually drink the coffee in her hand.

Jake gave a goofy confused smile, "why was that the first word that came to your mind?"

"Detective, the room's ready for you!" A uniform yelled from the hallway, drawing Jake's attention away from the happenings around him,

"Tell me what a catamaran is when I'm done- BAI!" and Jake was off down the hallway.

"Jake!" Amy's voice stopped him in his tracks, "You forgot something!"

He stared at her, trying to figure out what she meant. She pulled a bottle of pills out of the top drawer in his desk and chucked it at him. He caught it against his chest.

"oh, right…" He put the bottle in his pocket, "ahdeeohs mooochahchohs!"

"what was in the bottle?" Terry looked over at Amy for an answer, while motioning towards the hallway that Jake had just run down.

"People finally realized Jake is terminal." Gina spoke up from her desk, without looking up from her phone.

"What!?" Amy turned to her, "No!" with attention back on her, she felt the sudden need to explain, "they got a new lady for the psych eval, she put Jake through some tests and it turns out…" she trailed off, and Holt picked up the slack,

"Jake has ADHD."

"WHAT!?" Boyle had just come in from the kitchenette, he dropped his coffee mug and it shattered on the floor, "How come he told you two before he told me!?"

"So now he's going to like, totally fail all his drug tests." Gina sounded way to exited about her own statement.

"He is not," Amy corrected, "its in his file."

"Which is why I had to know." Holt stared at Boyle as the man looked down at his shattered coffee.

"Coolio, a file." Gina lost interest.


	2. Somebody Got Murdeeeeerrred!

A/N: I make it my prerogative to try not to put an authors note in the first chapter of a story. that being said, this is the second chapter! so in case you're wondering, the whole story is written, but its not completely finished, I still gotta put on the bells and whistles. Also I wrote all the legends I used from memory, and I want to make sure I have them correctly portrayed before they go up for the world to see. they change a little based on which band of my tribe you go to. Also, Ya'll gotta know, I was so giddy when a community added this story, all for my summary! Anyways, ya'll're actually still here so without further ado:

O0o

Jake set the bottle of pills on a table in the observation room, but forgot to actually take one. He watched the man inside the interrogation room carefully. It was one of those times he was grateful for the weird way his brain worked. Although he hadn't known it was because of ADHD until recently.

Every sound, every moment, every breath, flare of the nostrils, shift of a toe inside the worn down Tennie shoes, twitch of an arm, movement of the strange bracelets and bands on his wrist, the way those skittish brown eyes roved around the room, the long black-haired braid going down the man's back, his regal posture- everything. Even the weird horned snake printed on his shirt.

Jake barely noticed Terry come in behind him. "Alister Barns, suspected of a double murder, flimsy alibi, but not enough evidence to charge him. A uniform arrested him prematurely, we have forty-two hours left." He turned to Jake, "It's up to us to get a confession."

"who'd he muuuurduuuuurr?" Jake didn't know why he said the word weirdly, maybe because he felt like his life should be a comedy show, and making fun of English was, well, fun! Terry cracked a smile, but otherwise didn't react to his vocal weirdness.

Didn't matter, deep down everyone was crazy anyways.

"Obery and Criss McCormick," Terry read off the sheet, "they own a flower shop, Barns was the one who kept track of all the expenses, taxes, shipments and such, the shop was in serious debt."

"what'd he get out of the murder?"

"He doesn't have to sink with the shop." Terry looked over at him with that corny sly smile, "get it?" shop, like ship, shop ship. Ha-ha, puns.

"yeah, ships, got it." Jake gave a crooked smile.

O0o

"So," Jake slid into the chair on the other side, "yer friends got merderrrred?" he overshot and fell off the chair.

Also, why could he still not he say murdered correctly? That was a question for another time. Jake shot himself off the floor quickly and stood leaning over the table slightly, "how do you feeeeeel about that?"

The man stared at him, shocked but mostly unamused.

"Alright, admittedly the psychologist approach was awful."

"Therapist." Barns corrected.

"Whatever." Jake shrugged and settled into the chair, this time like a normal human being. Terry was watching from behind the glass, "so, who killed 'em?"

"I don't know!" the man shifted towards him, and practically screeched the words. Jake didn't outwardly respond, but he did gain a cocky grin.

"Woah, yelling already? C'mon man I was really hoping to save that for- like," Jake calculated (horribly) mentally, "twenty hours from now." He leaned forward, "but do you know what yelling tells me?"

The man squinted, "that I'm innocent?"

Jake pointed upwards and sat bolt upright, "Wrong!" then in a much calmer tone, he asked, "did you think we were just gonna let you off?" he smiled, "I mean, you killed-" careful avoidance of the word he obviously couldn't say with any seriousness right now, "-them, didn't you?"


	3. That Could've Gone Better

"I don't get it; the store wasn't even in that much debt." Amy was looking through the computer while Rosa walked around the flower shop. The whole place was nearly completely devoid of flowers, "Even Jake has more."

"Maybe it was panic." Rosa leaned to look at some of the remaining, nearly dead flowers. The shop appeared to have specialized in wildflowers, "why would anyone kill two people just to steal a bunch of wildflowers?"

"The logs show the store should be full of inventory," she clicked the mouse a few more times, checking to see if the store had video cameras, it didn't. She shut down the computers, "let's check the back room then ask the neighbors."

Rosa nodded and moved to the door, she jimmied the handle, but it was locked. So, she did the next logical thing and kicked the door. "Ah! Fuck!" she nursed her ankle while Amy found the key. "That's a door!"

Amy stared at her a moment before she unlocked and opened it. They both peered inside, before opening the door fully, and standing, perplexed, in the doorway, "whoa…"

O0o

"It's a mythological being." Terry stood in front of a bulletin board littered with images of a large, snake-like being, covered in both horns and spikes. "Uktena."

"Oh, I've heard of that!" Boyle stood up, "It's a snake!"

Everyone stared at him, shocked by his lack of realization that everyone was currently looking at pictures of paintings of Uktena, the snake, and that no one thought it might be a giant stone person or something, because it was quite obviously a snake.

"What's it got to do with flowers?" Rosa sat at a table with her arms crossed.

Terry shrugged in response to Rosa.

That was the end of the conversation that Amy was aware of, as she left to bring Jake, and Holt who was now watching the interrogation, the new information.

O0o

Amy had switched places with Jake, and while Terry and Rosa watched her from the observation room. Jake, being unable to keep a train of thought, and also on the receiving end of Boyle dropping yet another cup of coffee, was sent home to get cleaned up, grab coffee for everyone, a sippy cup for Boyle (that was a joke on his part) and to and his brain quoted, "Take your damn medication, Jake!"

He forgot it on his desk in the precinct though, so he was going on day three of unmedicated! He didn't know why he thought that with an exclamation point, he wasn't really doing a good job of filtering his emotions. Maybe he meant it as a joke, but there was nobody around to laugh.

It took him four hours of pottering about doing random things in his and Amy's apartment before he finally managed to force himself into the shower. Then another three hours before he got himself out of the house and to the coffee shop. Every time he looked back at the last seven hours, the chicken dance seemed to play in the background of his mind as his brain fast forwarded through the events of the night.

At one point he was washing the dishes while microwaving a potato, cooking a tortilla on the stove (Amy had taught him how) then he walked away from the running water, the tortilla caught on fire, he forgot the potato existed until this moment when he was thinking back on it, and he went to go start the shower before remembering the two things in the kitchen and running back to shut off the fire, then turn off the sink.

Now, it was too late to go back for his potato as he was waiting for the coffees while leaning against the wall. "Detective?" the woman behind the counter knew him vaguely, just enough about his line of work and a few hobbies. "your drinks are ready." She was a nice girl, half Irish, she always wore her hair in nice neat braids that looked just slightly different from what he thought of as normal. She claimed they were called Celtic knots, but he had no proof. Her earrings were a little loud, but she said they were an heirloom, and the longer Jake knew her, the more they seemed normal.

That thought journey aside, he managed to get all the coffees and leave the cafe, maybe a bit disheveled looking, He never did get around to brushing his hair, and he desperately needed to get it cut soon, and his clothes were slightly wrinkled, but with everything none the less. He even remembered to shave!

He was so incredibly happy with the accomplishments he did, well, accomplish. But, he was too focused on not dropping all the drinks. The last thing he expected was for someone to grab him from behind.

With a startled yell, the coffee flew from his hands and splattered onto the street, his arms flailed and belatedly he wondered why no one was doing anything- until he realized it was about three am, and there was literally no one else around.

The people who grabbed him were talking to each other in a language he couldn't understand. It sounded like Japanese though, so there was that. A familiar smell drifted through the air, he was fully aware of he, even as he tried to punch a guy, but in Jake's panicked state, the full comprehension on what the smell meant, was lost on him.

Chloroform. The rag was held to his face, and almost instantly, Jake felt himself losing the fight, both to stay awake, and to get away.

 **A/N: Hi! I'm pretty confident in my memory of legends, coming from a family descended of medicine men, its pretty ingrained in me, but I still tried to research to make sure I got everything down right. Low and behold, there's not much on most the legends, and when I tried to fact check one of the words I decided to use, THERE WAS NOTHING! Oh the difficulties of knowing a half dead language. I'd ask my uncle but I don't want a three hour lecture. Anyways, thank you for the follows and reviews, they mean so much to me! I don't know if ya'll know this, but authors love reviews. it takes twenty seconds of your time, but it brightens up our whole lives. I still remember the first review on my first ever story and how happy it made me. So if you liked the story, have any suggestions, or ever want some clarification on my culture and the things I reference (I made a stoneclad joke in this chapter that no one will get, sadness) just drop a review and make my whole week! God bless, and peace out!**


	4. Caffeination and Anticipation

"Where. is my. coffee?" Rosa glared at Amy as she came back into the room.

"What?" Amy looked entirely affronted, and spoke as she slid into her chair, "Jake should be back in a few minutes, he texted asking what I wanted."

Rosa slammed her head on her desk and groaned. It was 3:15 am and everyone either wanted to sleep, or was asleep. Terry sat, zombified and typing on his computer, Boyle was on the phone with someone in Tennessee. Gina was out cold at her desk, snoring softly.

"I thought you only drank tea?" Amy looked at the black-haired sleep deprived detective.

"Fuck everything, I need caffeine."

Amy nodded slowly, then sent Jake a text asking how close he was, before exasperatedly looking around the precinct. Holt's office door was closed, blinds as well, he was probably napping, what else would he be doing? It was 3 am for crying out loud.

Amy impulsively checked her phone for Jake's response, but it was suspiciously devoid of notifications. Boyle ended his call, and stood up, with a sweeping gaze, he looked around the area. The next thing Amy decided to focus on, was the meeting in the briefing room, and that Jake was still not there.

"I got off the phone with a nice old Cherokee Indian woman-"

"Don't call them that Boyle!" Gina was nursing a mug of tea, and glaring at him.

"She said she was one!" Boyle shot back at her, "anyways, she and I had a nice chat about ancient legends, and it turns out, there was a sect of the eastern band that broke off about fifteen years ago, and they're working on getting sacrifices to bring to the Rock people, who are tiny people, so they can make their leader into a new Uktena, or a giant horned snake."

Everyone stared at him, highly confused. Boyle sighed, and elaborated, "So there's apparently a tiny race of people who are, and I quote, as tall as our knee caps, and that race has three tribes, and one of them is called the rock people." He received slow nods of apprehensive understanding so he continued on,

"the rock people are mean, and they kidnap kids, and they like revenge. So, the small group of people that broke off of one of the bands of the Cherokee, is trying to gain the help of the rock people. The only issue is, they based themselves out of New York, and no one knows where the rock people are anymore."

"Or if they ever were a thing to begin with." Rosa muttered, her temper mostly from lack of caffeine.

"Anyways," Boyle continued, "the nice lady, I couldn't pronounce her name so she said to just call her Friend of Birds, said that they would be looking for sage, wild flowers, dead game, and missing people, mostly children and childish adults, or as she said, 'forever children.'"

"Okay," Holt finally spoke up from his spot in a corner, "So what are we looking for?"

"We should look through illegal hunting charges, missing children's reports, and missing people's reports." Terry suggested.

"Oh my gosh!" Amy had a sudden realization, "The flower shop, that's why he killed them, he wanted all the flowers to be for the," she faltered, the idea still being so weird to her, "the sacrifices."

"that's a motive." Holt spoke up.

O0o

"yeah, I wanted flowers for it, they said they didn't wanna give them no more, but we don't kill sacrifices. They're ain't missing."

"Wha'd'ya do with 'em then?" Rosa needed coffee, and Rosa had no patience.

The man must've sensed the difference in atmosphere around her, because he cooperated, "they go to the rock people."

"that's not an answer."

"What do you want from me? Yeah, I killed the guys, they were gonna end their sacrifices, said it was useless, and we should just make a life for ourselves 'stead of tryin' to bring back them old times." The man smirked, "You got my story lady, but ain't ya missing something?"

"What?"

"your eegoheeduh oowahgeeah." (spelled English phonetically, a google search will yield nothing) She leaned over the table staring at him, but he smirked sat back and smiled, "Your forever boy."

Behind the glass, Amy took out her phone to check if Jake had responded, but there was nothing. She called him, her panic rising even as Rosa finished up and left the room. All Amy managed to get, was a voicemail. "Hey Jake, where're you at, Rosa really needs that coffee."

O0o

"So, there's a kid missing somewhere in this city." Rosa stated without lifting her head off the table, it was seven in the morning now, and still no Jake. It's not that she didn't care, she was just too tired to emote in normal Rosa manner. Jake was in for a harsh talking too when he did show up.

It was Wednesday now, and the uniformed officers were beginning to show up for their shifts.

"there's no missing persons cases in the area that fit the criteria." Terry looked up from the tablet he was holding.

"Maybe we're not looking for a kid." Amy spoke up from where she sat at one of the tables. She turned to Boyle, "the woman," she made a weird face when going over her name, it just seemed funky to her, "Friend of Birds, she said, children or people that act like children-"

"Childlike." Terry corrected.

"Yeah, she did say that." Boyle spoke with a thoughtful air, before getting a sudden look of alarm, "people who act like kids…"

"What?" Rosa lifted her head from the table, "you mean like Jake?"

Amy froze, and took out her phone, "I'm going to try and call him again." and for the fifth time, Jake's phone went straight to voicemail. Everyone listened to the message, then the beep, and Amy hung up, she'd already left a few messages and another one would be redundant.

"Santiago, take a uniform and go check your home, Diaz, go ask around the twenty-four-hour café, Boyle, go talk more with Barns, get as much information as you can," Holt swept his gaze across the room, "Jake could just be being, well, Jake."

No one, not even Holt himself, believed his words.

 **A/N: I now know this story will be exactly ten chapters. That makes the OCD part of my ADHD very happy. Also this chapter and the next one will be the longest in the story, and I might turn this into a series, obviously not with so many Cherokee references, but still, I think it'd be cool to have a series, and I have some ideas, but I've decided to try this new thing where I don't post stories until they're finished. Drop a review if you liked it. Or you can just leave silently and hope I don't know what I missed because you really don't wanna type one out, that's okay too I guess lol! Peace out, Don't drink and drive, Bai!**


	5. Awkward Storytelling

Jake came to groggily. It took him a while to gather his wits and figure out where he was. The floor of a truck. Not one of those trucks the rednecks on a farm have, that they pull their horse trailers with- Jake thought it was just a stereotype, but then he went out of the city a way some years ago, and low and behold, trucks! But this was not one of those. This was what he normally thought of when you think truck, that is a sixteen-wheeler semi.

They called them something different in almost every city of America, even single families called them different from their own neighbors. But that thought journey aside, he was on the floor of a cargo truck. In the back of it too- the place where you put stuff and then it's a giant rectangle on wheels, and the tall weird car thing latches on and drives it away- the back of that- that was where he was. He was way too calm about this.

He was on his side, he realized that belatedly, only when he tried to lift his head. His hands were tied tightly in front of him, he could feel the rope, and in the dim lighting, he could just barely see the knots. He tried to move, to shift his feet farther away from each other and brace himself into a sitting position, but his ankles stayed stuck together. Frustrated, he let his head fall back to the ground. He assumed his ankles were tied as well.

To pass the time, he tried to loosen the ropes around his wrists, but every time he pulled on them, they got tighter and tighter. He gave up on that pretty soon after starting.

Maybe an hour later, the back of the truck opened slightly, letting in a sliver of artificial light. Jake blinked towards it, and heard that same language he had heard earlier. It still sounded like Japanese to him, but something about it sounded very un-Japanese.

"Who are you people?" Jake tried to ignore the fact that he wasn't really in a position to ask questions. He could see the gun peeking out of his jacket. The jacket was the next thing Jake focused on, it looked funny, in an unfamiliar kind of way. It had tribal patterns going in a line across it, and a long braid hanging down his back. His jeans were old and torn up, and his sharp features were angled into a scowl.

"you are the forever child?" the man asked, jumping right over Jake's question, which was fine, because Jake had almost forgotten he'd asked it, anyways, the man carried on, "the one with the medication to grow up?"

"My Adderall?" Jake frowned, how did they even know about that? He kept it hidden from the rest of the detectives until recently. And only because Amy _just had to_ chuck the bottle halfway across the bullpen to him. Thanks, Amy, for ruining everything, jeez. Just kidding, he wasn't that annoyed with her, but it wasn't the best moment of his life.

Wait, the investigation into the flower shop had been going on for a little over three days… had they been stalking the precinct since the murder had been discovered? Had they been stalking him?

"You have forever child mannerisms."

Jake squinted, trying to figure out what that meant. Sure, he acted immature sometimes, but he didn't really act like a kid, did he? Or maybe the man was talking about his symptoms, he was actually really impulsive, "you mean my ADHD?"

"yes." The man made no change of expression, it reminded him slightly of Captain Holt.

But now Jake knew they weren't playing stupid, they actually knew what ADHD was, and they were still calling it that weird 'forever child' thing. Now he just needed to know, "why do you care?"

"The Rock People will thank us." The man smiled.

"What?" That explained literally nothing. What was that even supposed to mean. The rock people? What was that? People made out of rock? Statues? They wanted to give him to statues? Did they want to do that? Why though?

Luckily for Jake, the man did explain a little, "the little people. They will thank us for bringing them a forever child, they will make us a new Uktena."

"A giant snake?"

"The Uktena is far more than a giant snake, yoonayguh." (Word for white man, while it can be considered highly derogatory, depending on spoken context, and dialect, usually it's not, but in this instance, it is meant to be racist in intent. Also spelled English phonetically, actual spelling is yunegv.)

Jake blanched, "What the hell did you just call me?" he was seriously confused now, did this guy just call him… what did that even mean? It sounded mean. Was it mean?

"White man."

Oh, yay the dude clarified. Now Jake knew what the dude had called him, he was being called a white man, which he was white, but why did it feel so… gross? "Okay, cool, cool, cool, cool, so let me get this straight, okay? Okay, so you think I'm a forever child because I've got ADHD, and you want to sacrifice me to a bunch of people made of rocks-"

"Little people. The stoneclads would not give us a gift in return."

"cool, cool, little people, made of rocks-" Jake cut himself off, "Wait stoneclads?"

"No, just the little people."

"so, they're not made of rocks?"

"No, they are just little people."

"Why are they called rock people then?"

"They live in caves."

"Do they live with stoneclads?"

"No, stupid yunegv, just the little people."

"Okay. Okay, okay," Jake decided to drop it, "so you want to sacrifice me to a bunch of tiny people in caves-"

"Not tiny, little."

"Little people, little people in caves, so they'll be happy with you, and make you a giant snake?"

"No, they make one of us _into_ a giant snake." There was a pause, Jake just stared at him, he had come to the realization that this man was crazy, the man himself just stared back, then he said, "with horns."

"Okay…" what? What even… Jake knew for a fact that this man was absolutely missing a ton of marbles, "cool, cool, cool, why a snake? With horns?"

"A giant snake, it tried to kill the sun once."

That sentence made Jake's brain stop computing for a moment, "Wh…" he had to seriously focus on not smiling over how absurd this was and smiling was definitely not appropriate at this time, "what?"

"The sun was angry with us, and shone brightly to kill us all, so we went to the little people and they made us two snakes, and one was the Uktena, and they tried to kill the sun."

"Oh, cool, cool," this was so weird. Maybe it was relevant to remind you that Jake was tied up on the ground of a sixteen-wheeler, talking to a random armed man who was holding him captive about a giant snake that may or may not have killed the sun. (that was the best sentence I have ever written in my life.) "so, uh," Jake had no idea what he was doing, maybe he was stalling, maybe he was actually interested in this weirdness, "did it kill the sun?"

"No, its companion killed the sun's daughter."

"Cool?"

 **A/N: Merry Christmas Chapter two of the day will be up soon.**


	6. Difficult Interrogation

"So, you can't find your forever child?" Barns was being less than cooperative. He had a nasty smirk on, and sat comfortably in his chair. Boyle, on the other hand,

"I know you know I know that you know where he is?"

"Who?"

"Jake!"

"Who is Jake?"

"Detective Jacob Peralta?"

"Oh, the forever child?"

Boyle stared at him, "So you do know who he is?"

"Yes."

"What did you do!?"

"No, what did you do?"

Boyle seemed surprised by this question, but quickly reatained his cool, "what are you talking about?"

"you all arrested me. You brought my people's attention to you. Only one in many is a forever child. They are too hard to track down when you have no connections. But you brought one straight to our attention, all my people had to do was wait."

"You all've been watching Jake for a while now, haven't you?"

"Ever since ya'll started investigating the flower shop."

Boyle nodded. Then without another word, he stood up and left the room.

O0o

A search of Amy and Jake's apartment yielded nothing. Jake had been missing for ten hours now and everyone was getting antsy. Rosa was looking through all the flower shop's contacts, Boyle was on the phone with the nice Cherokee woman, or as Boyle tried to pronounce it, chalagi, unfortunately, what he actually said was "tsialaaaagih." Which was beyond wrong and just plain weird.

The woman sounded nice about it though, even if she did have a habit of going down rabbit trails and telling him all about specific legends and how those legends intertwined with other legends- Boyle had been at it for an hour and a half.

Amy was pacing while on the phone with Jake's mom, after all, someone had to tell her that her only child was missing.

She had just hung up when Rosa stood up abruptly. "I found something." When she had everyone's attention, she pressed a button on her keyboard, "the guys that owned the flower shop also owned a shipment truck."

"A what?" Terry looked confused, and then down at her computer screen.

"One of those trucks with a whole bunch of wheels that carry stuff from one place to another." Rosa clarified.

"No those are semis." Boyle spoke up.

"No, I'm pretty sure it's an I sound not an E sound." Scully butted in from out of nowhere.

"Get to the point!" Amy practically screeched.

Rosa watched her for a second, before nodding slightly, Anyway, they own a truck, and it was pinged, the truck ran a red light at about 3:40 this morning."

"So, we need to find the truck?" Holt asked from the doorway of his office, "Boyle, Diaz, go look around the area, Santiago and Jeffords, see if you can find the tuck on security cameras, Hitchcock and Scully, what have you two even been doing today?"

Both older men shrugged.


	7. Tsisqua Unali'i

"How come every time Jake disappears, a weird truck comes into the picture?" Rosa spoke as the two walked, asking passerby's if they had seen the truck, or Jake, or even something like the weird horned… Uktena snake.

"Hey, it's not his fault, he's just…"

"An easy target."

"What?" Boyle hadn't been expecting that.

"He's got a big heart. And an ego. He notices everything, except when he's focused, then he notices nothing." Rosa was quiet for a minute, but when Boyle said nothing, she continued, "what do you wanna bet he was so focused on the coffee and getting back to the precinct, he didn't even notice there were other people around until it was too late?" Boyle didn't answer, but this time Rosa knew it was because he was thinking.

An older woman was sitting on a rocking chair on the porch of a neighborhood convenience store. Boyle jumped on the excuse to leave the topic be, "excuse me ma'am," he smiled at her as he spoke, "Would you be willing, or able to answer some questions?"

"Aren't ya a sweet kid, what's 'it you wanna ask, yunegv?" (proper spelling for the term: white man, this time it is meant as a sort of nickname, even with a bit of an endearing edge. Names in every language, especially nicknames, often take on different meanings based on tone. Like imagine if Jake called Gina a goose as an insult, there would be riots in the streets. My own family lovingly calls my la Guerra, but if someone outside the family calls me it, I jump on the occasion to call them pendejo(a). No one calls me yunegv because I used to get bullied in the language so it's just always going to have that edge for me… BACK TO YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMING)

"Have you seen this truck?" Boyle held up a picture, while Rosa focused on the word.

"Yuh-nay-guh?" She wrinkled her nose.

"Yes sweets, means white man, it's sweet calling, for sweet person." She took her time looking at the truck, "the western band couple, they own it, I seen it bout a hour ago, was goin fast, musta missed a collection."

"You mean shipment?" Boyle asked, and the woman nodded,

"Yes, that."

"Ma'am, are you a tsiaalaagiah?" Boyle still couldn't pronounce it right… but he tried,

"Cha la gi." The old woman pronounced carefully, watched Boyle pronounce it, then continued, "born 'n raised on the rez, not been home in seasons, don't think its even there 'nymore."

"Could you tell us more about the Uktena?"

The woman's features darkened, "why you ask about the evil snake, our ancestors prayed to it, but it killed them anyway." She stared at the two, sudden suspicion alight in her eyes.

"What?"

"The evil snake- would kill 'nyone who came to close, had large horns, and was made by the little people."

"How did it die?" Boyle was intrigued, especially by the past tenses.

The woman launched into the legend as though it were a practiced affair, which it actually was, "a young boy from the Shawnee was held captive by the tribe, we made a promise, if he could kill the great Uktena, which could only be pierced on the seventh stripe, then he could go free. The Uktena had horns, and in its blood was black poison.

The Shawnee boy searched for days before finding its home. He made a ring of fire, and took a great spear. He shouted, "Freedom or Death!" and pierced the great snake on its seventh stripe. Then, as poison flowed, he jumped into the middle of the fire ring.

The poison was destroyed by fire, and the snake bled out. A great lake was formed by blood of the Uktena, and its black water was used as dye for baskets. The Shawnee boy was given freedom as promised, and the death of the Uktena was recorded carefully in our stories."

"Oh, so like that show for teenagers about a town run by syrup."

The woman stared at him for a second before, "no."

Rosa tried to get the conversation back on track, something about the lack of urgency was getting to her, "you did see the vehicle, where was it going?"

"To the warehouse."

"Warehouse?"

"Oh, fifteen years back a group of angry tribe members broke from the eastern band, decided to make the dangerous magic path and revive the great Uktena, they did come out here. They bought a warehouse near the end of the city, 'n live in it. All the Indians in the area know of it, and stay far from it. You do not mess with the little people."

"The little people are the only ones that can make an Uktena, aren't they?" Somehow Boyle was keeping track of all the weirdness.

"Yunegv, they make them from a man." She got a very dark look on her face, "it's said they do it in return for a forever child."

Boyle looked interested and was about to ask another question, but Rosa interrupted.

"Do you have the address for that warehouse?" Rosa took out a pen and her notebook.

 **A/N: Okay Hi! this is the last chapter for today, Merry Christmas, God bless ya'll! I want to thank everyone for the reviews, especially the guests since I can't reply privately, I gotta do it here. Cherokee pronunciation differs mostly on the vowels, so they go in order: A, E, I, O, U, V, S- ah, eh, ee, oh, oo, uh, sh or s. and ts makes the ch sound. Any fellow Cherokee, please don't yell at me if I got a legend wrong, I do this mostly from memory. Also yeah, its true, many older natives, and even younger ones too, but more in the minority, don't give a shit, they're all like, yeah, duh, we're Indians. me and my brother are a little brutal to each other, if we take something from the other sibling, it is their prerogative to call the thieving sibling a "dirty indjin." then the response is, "I shower more than you, filthy pilgrim." Oh the joys of being mixed race. ANYWAYS, merry Christmas, Happy Hanuka, and see ya'll later!**


	8. Surrounding sacrifice

"So, uh, why are we still in a warehouse?" Jake sat on the ground in a corner, feet untied and sitting with crossed legs and still not quite knowing what to do with his hands. He was pretty sure his fidgeting was becoming the most annoying thing possible to these crazy… what tribe was this? Well he didn't want to give these guys the dignity of being nice with terms. It wasn't that he hated all native Americans, but these seven were on the top of his least favorite people list…

Yeah, did he forget to mention that? There were like seven guys here, and it was making escape completely impossible.

"We need the alter to be perfect." The first dude, when they spoke to each other he assumed the language they were using was native, either way he didn't know any of their names, "the little people demand much."

"Cool. Cool, cool, cool," Jake nodded, with a bit of panic on his face, sacrifices he knew usually involved fire, "So uh, are you going to burn it all or…"

That actually got the man's attention, "Stupid saying for a stupid yunegv, why destroy for the living?"

"So, no fire?" Jake silently thanked God, "cool, cool, okay, um," Jake looked at all the meats and flowers and baskets and blankets and things being loaded ono the truck, "what are you going to do with it then?"

"The forever child does not need to know."

"Oh, that's cool, that's fine, kinda a weird concept though, but okay, okay, it's all cool, cool, cool, uh, do I at least get to know what time it is?"

"Time is a useless concept."

"True that, but seriously?"

"No."

"Okay…" Jake looked around, desperately trying to find something to occupy himself with. There was only so long you could stew in your own anxiety without getting bored. And Jake Peralta, the half Jewish police detective with ADHD, who was currently being held captive by a radical cult of a splinter sect of the eastern band of the Cherokee tribe, was absolutely bored.

O0o

Boyle and Rosa were conversing with an old Cherokee, "An address?" the old woman seemed to think very hard on that, "Dearie, it's the one that looks like it ain't been used in years, the roofs 'bout caved in, it's not easy to miss, she took the pen out of Rosa's hand, but before the detective could get properly annoyed, she wrote some symbols on it that looked like letters, but not quite.

"it's got these words written on it, in red letters." Rosa nodded, while looking down at the notepad in her hand.

"Thank you, Ma'am," Boyle made a light bowing motion, "can I ask your name?"

"Snow bird," she smiled, "off with you two, leave an elder to her tales." Rosa stared at her a moment, before nodding and taking out her phone.

She dialed a number while Boyle thanked the woman again, and then while telling the person on the other end of the line the needed information, she and Boyle hurried to their car.

"backup should get there at the same time as us." Diaz broke the silence of the car, and Boyle looked over at her, surprised,

"Oh, did they get an address?"

"Wasn't hard to find on google maps."

"fair point."

O0o

"So," Jake broke the silence again, he couldn't help it, silence was not his friend, especially in high stress situations, "uh, is it too much to ask for some food?" he looked around, "Or maybe water?" the sun was setting, he was going into caffeine withdrawal, and he had a dehydration headache. Not to mention how tired he was, and how hungry, "or water?" He said it again, louder this time.

"The little people will provide you with that."

"ha-ha," Jake really needed to work on making filters between his brain and his mouth, "see, they aren't here right now, and the sun is setting, Soooo…" that meant he hadn't slept in upwards of forty hours. Curse his hairbrained sleep schedule. Either way, his eyes burned from lack of sleep.

Jake was leaning against the wall, his legs bent upwards and his hands resting between them and his chest. It was cold. The sun was going down and it was nearly winter, and these insane people hadn't so much as closed a window.

Maybe he was lucky his didn't get an answer, because this whole situation could've ended with him getting much more hurt then he was, especially with how much time had passed. He was wearing both a flannel and his leather jacket, but the t-shirt under that really wasn't much of a shield form the weather. And the cold from the cement wasn't really stopped by his pants either…

Those guys all had beers, and were singing along to a song in that weird language, Jake tried asking what it was but they just laughed at him, and huddled around a fire, watching it burn. One man had dropped a bundle of sage onto the flames, and Jake wasn't quite sure of the significance, but it couldn't be good for him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a vehicle pull up, he could just barely see it, the none of the men seemed to notice, they were all a little occupied with their song. He wasn't sure if it was a celebration, but it seemed like one.

Jake's first assumption was that the vehicle was some of the men's friends, which was bad news for him. But what shattered that belief was when one of the men stopped singing and asked a question, all the others answered with the same word, Jake assumed it was a single word.

It was fast, they all scrambled. One man put out the fire, another ran to lock the truck, while two came towards him. the two coming towards him was what kept him from keeping track of the other three.

"Hey, hey!" There wasn't much of a defense Jake could put up, he was quickly yanked off the floor, "seriously, you just had to as-"

"Quiet." One of the men waved a gun in his face,

"okay… cool, cool, cool co-"

He was shushed by the man again, this time he clicked the safety off the gun, and Jake's eyes widened, this time, he just nodded.

 **A/N: we're nearing the endgame, and I do have a sequel planned, but it won't be too directly connected, but it'll tie up some things and help any plot-holes you all, or I, find. Anyways, i hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I also hope to hear from ya'll. So, Imma teach ya'll another word, it meand goodbye,** **dodadagohvi (dohdahdahgohhu'ee) I mean I've never used it in conversation, we always just say ski (Sh-ki) but I don't fully know if that's cherokee or another language my family commonly uses, anyways, peace!**


	9. Cliff Hanger

Terry took the key out of the ignition. Somehow, he, Amy, and Holt had managed to get there faster than Rosa and Charles. Probably because of wonky New York traffic. Inside they could see the men all around the fire.

"Do you see Jake?" Amy sat in the back seat, but she already had her seat-belt off and was leaning as far forward as she could.

"No, just seven guys," Terry spoke as he looked around.

"I may see something." Holt spoke up from the passenger seat, "a truck full of flowers." He paused, "wild flowers."

Both Amy and Terry turned to look at him, frowning slightly in confusion.

"If I remember correctly, the flower shop specialized in wild flowers," Another pause for dramatic effect, "and most of the flowers were stolen the day of the murder."

The three watched as the men began moving, most out of sight, but one put out the fire, which Holt noted was illegal to have in the warehouse, and the other locked up the truck. "That's probable cause."

Rosa and Boyle arrived and Amy was quick to get out of the car. Holt and Terry followed.

They closed the doors quietly, and began moving towards the man locking up the truck.

"Excuse me, are those flowers yours?" Rosa asked in a sickly-sweet voice, with one hand on her firearm, ready to pull it out at a moment's notice. The man spins around, but looks more panicked then shocked,

Terry comes forward, standing slightly in front of Amy, and letting her focus shift to the rest of the huge area, "NYPD, you're under arrest for consp…" his words fade out, she's too busy noticing the open door across the warehouse, still banging against the wall from the force it was opened with.

She yells words she can't remember to the others, and bolts off towards the door, noting by their footsteps that at least two of them are following her. The sun had gone down by now, leaving only a sliver of light on the horizon, and the light pollution from the city.

She's through the door in an instant, weapon raised and searching for those other guys, and searching for Jake. She can hear Boyle and Diaz follow her out, she assumes they have their weapons out as well, as she sees them.

They're rushing towards an old truck, one of those ones that people living outside cities have, the ones that pull those trailers that people camp in, its old and rusty and may at one point have been red, and they were forcing Jake, her Jake, towards it.

She takes the safety off her gun.

"NYPD freeze!" it takes a moment for her to realize it's not her own voice yelling that, it's Rosa's, and the woman is almost as angry as she is. When the men keep on going, Boyle is the one to fire a warning shot. It hits the car, and the window shatters.

That does make them stop running.

There's four of them, five counting Jake. He looks so tired, his hair's greasy, his clothes a rumpled mess, his eyes struggling to focus through his exhaustion and what's probably a massive headache. Amy's heart nearly stops when she sees him.

All the emotions she's been pushing down, the fear, panic, anxiety, multiple panic attacks, the terror, she was listing off very similar emotions, she had felt their presence, but ignored their implications, and now it all hit her. She met Jake's eyes.

His whole self seemed to radiate exhaustion, but he held her gaze steady, even as one of the four men's weapons found itself pointed at his head. He knew what Amy knew. That Amy was in the perfect position. She could shoot the guy dead.

Boyle was taking up the duty of hostage negotiations, but it wasn't going well- the whole point was to return the person to a calm state of normal being, but these people, what they were trying to do, it was their normal, they were on a mission. There was only one way this could end.

Amy lines up her shot.

Boyle keeps trying, but the men are getting more agitated, now their main concern, get the hostage, get Jake, out of the line of fire. Jake keeps Amy's gaze. He nods slightly. They're in total sync. Take the shot Amy.

She does.

 **A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR! I was going to upload this a few days ago, but while I was editing the document, the whole page froze. Then my super-blocker said it was blocking hundreds of "adds" then "thousands" then it stopped counting the first and tens places. this website doesn't put adds on private profile pages. so I forced the page to shut down. I thought it wise to stay off of this website for a bit after that. especially since adblocker was going insane but ghostery was scarily silent... But here's the new chapter, I hope you all like it!**


	10. Leaving Room for Growth

Boyle keeps trying to negotiate, but the men are getting more agitated. The safety on the gun isn't on, its pointed at Jake's head. Negotiation isn't working, now their main concern, get the hostage- get Jake, out of the line of fire. Jake keeps Amy's gaze. He nods slightly. They're in total sync. Take the shot Amy.

She does.

Amy's not quite sure why she doesn't remember the sound of the fire, only the echo, but the other three are running now, even as Jake drops to the ground to stay out of the way.

One of the men makes a break for the car, but as he rounds it to get to the driver's side, he runs straight into Holt, gun held steady, and pure, unadulterated anger in his normally stoic gaze. Diaz takes down the other, tackling him to the ground, and Boyle manages to corner the other, taking him into custody as well.

Amy doesn't notice all that, all she sees, is Jake, dropping to the ground. She rushes towards him, falling to her knees and helping him up. He smiles at her, and she smiles back, still in shock. His legs are bent upwards, sprawled out in front of him, his hands still tightly tied together, but his smile is genuine, and he says one word.

"Hey."

Amy wasn't used to this rush of emotion, the outpouring of pent up anxiety boiling over with relief. A psychologist would explain that the anxiety and relief are both kinds of stress weighing you down just the same, and adding up on each other regardless. All she knew was that now she was exploding.

"Hey!? You got kidnapped at three am, have been missing all day, were going to be sacrificed by some crazy native American snake cult, probably involving fire, and all you have to say, is hey!?"

He smiled at her again, and she wondered if he had even stopped smiling, either way, her heart melted at his next words, "I love you."

"I love you to, you idiot."

He actually laughed at that one, "can you?" he held up his hands and Amy let out an

"Oh!"

And quickly took out her knife to cut the ropes.

"Thanks." He kept smiling at her, "You're beautiful."

She put her hand over her heart to acknowledge that, "and you're delirious, let's get you home."

"need to get the con-" his eyelids were fluttering, but he forced them open.

"we got it already, we even got all five of the guys." At that, Jakes eyes did shoot open,

"Ames, there were seven." He smiled, finally losing the battle with exhaustion, "also there wasn't any fire…"

O0o

The other two men were picked up the next day. The old woman Boyle had befriended, called the precinct when they walked into her son's convenience store.

Jake didn't wake up until five in the afternoon the next day. He was dehydrated and tired, but other than that, he was physically fine.

Fine enough to walk into the precinct on Friday to find out Holt had requested a psych eval before he could return to active duty.

"But I literally just got one!" he wasn't doing a great job of acting like an adult, "remember, me and Rosa had to have one!"

"And then you were kidnapped by a bunch of people who wanted a human sacrifice." Holt explained it without emotion, but Amy, who stood next to Jake, had no problem with emotion right now,

"They were gonna burn you!"

"Actually," Jake couldn't stop himself from correcting, "they were going to leave me tied up in the forest for a bunch of tiny people-"

"Little People!" Boyle yelled from out in the bullpen,

Jake pointed out the door at Boyle, "that; thank you," then he continued, "no fire whatsoever, actually I was mostly just really cold."

Amy let out a yell of frustration and left the room, but Holt just stared at him.

"Fine," Jake seemed to realize how whacked out that sounded, "I do see your point, I'll get the psych eval, but that doesn't mean I'll like it."

"that is not the point of a psychological evaluation."

 **A/N: that about wraps this up. I do have more planned, but I'm on the fence about making them into more chapters to this, or making them into a sequel. long fics do tend to be a turn off, I don't know yet. Either way it's not even finished so don't expect them for a while. anyways, I'm not entirely happy with the ending, so I might one day come back and clean this fic up a bit. so leave a review if you liked it, maybe don't be a pissy butt about things if you didn't, and see ya'll around. Dodadagohvi!**


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